Lives Apart
by MotherOfAll
Summary: Castiel is a quiet Pisces in a world where people are reincarnated twelve times in the order of the zodiac. When he meets Dean, an enthusiastic Aries who captures his heart, he learns just how precious a life can be when you only have one. (Re-uploaded).
1. Chapter 1

Castiel Novak had lived eleven lives. Each one was like the next; uneventful and seemingly endless. They were not unsatisfying, simply quiet. He'd always been content to hide away and let the world pass by him as he awaited yet another death. It wasn't until he had been born as an Aquarius that he had realized he was nearing the end of his existence.

He'd died of old age in a dimly lit hospital room. He couldn't remember the year, but he could remember that no one else was there. He was alone. It was quiet and uneventful, identical to the rest of his deaths. He'd fallen into oblivion with no one by his side for the eleventh time.

When he was born into the Novak family he was given therapy by the time he entered preschool, as was the typical treatment for a Pisces child. He'd watched the other children run carefree through the streets, knowing that if they died they would return almost immediately, although in a different time and place. They had no reason to fear death, only the pain that accompanied it. Castiel, however, had been forced to sit on the sidelines, protecting his fragile body from destruction.

He wasn't allowed to participate in gym or hands-on science. He couldn't be around large machinery, nor be left alone for more than an hour. Teachers kept a constant watch on him, knowing that if he died, the consequences would be far more drastic than if an Aries or Gemini child was killed. It bothered him, being coddled like a newborn.

Of course, he didn't tell his therapist that.

"I think it's kind for people to try to protect me," he spoke flatly, picking at the imagined dirt beneath his fingernails. The therapist, who had insisted on being called by her first name, Tessa, took notes, the sound of the pen against paper grating in Castiel's ears. He glanced up, quickly returning to inspecting his thumb when he found she was still looking at him.

"Now, Castiel," her voice was bright, but serious, with sickly sweet kindness, like medicine, dripping from the words in an attempt to be comforting. Castiel swallowed, acknowledging the sudden heaviness in the air. He hated this, when therapists tried to sugarcoat everything.

"Yes?" he asked politely, tucking his hands between his shaking knees.

"You're not a child, though you may look like one," she paused, perhaps expecting him to laugh. When he didn't respond, she spoke again, her voice becoming darker.

"Have you given any more thought to your death?" he lips were pursed and her eyebrows raised in a dramatic display of innocent curiosity.

"Which one? I've died a few times," his monotonous voice didn't seem to phase her, for she brought another smile to her lips, the kind that doesn't reach the eyes.

"Your next one. Your final one," Castiel's veins became icy and he tightened his jaw, grating his teeth together.

"Yes."

"And?"

Castiel paused, watching the fan turn above his head, turning his eyes in circles as he followed one blade after another, each one the same as the next.

"It isn't scary."

"Why is that?" her voice cut through him like a knife. He'd told the truth, but he didn't want to dissect his reasoning. Not yet.

"I've died a bunch of times."

"But you won't come back to life anymore."

"I know," Castiel kept his eyes on the fan blades, refusing to meet his therapist's eyes. She sighed, leaning forward with her hands on her knees.

"Then why aren't you afraid?" her voice seemed concerned, but Castiel knew she wasn't really. She was trained to make people feel cared about. It was her job to fake kindness.

"I don't know."

The timer went off, signaling the end of the session.

* * *

Elementary school went by quickly, akin to a dream. He spoke to almost no one, and no one spoke to him. His friends from kindergarten had both left him by the time Castiel turned eight. Balthazar moved to California with his dad after his mom died, because the Funeral Director had found a woman there with her identifier; a small pink birth mark on her right ankle. Shortly after, in the summer of first grade, Gabriel had died of leukemia for the final time. None of it seemed real, not even Gabriel's funeral. It was odd, having a funeral. They were exclusive for Pisces. Castiel didn't cry. Instead, he'd stared blankly ahead, almost in anger. Gabriel's death meant more therapy. Castiel had spent the rest of his elementary and middle school years alone.

He'd hated every second of it.

"It was fun, but I'm looking forward to junior high," he spoke quickly, trying not to focus too much on the reality, instead fixing his mind on the scent of fresh printer paper and hand sanitizer.

"What will you miss the most about sixth grade?"

"Snack time," he answered curtly.

"Have you thought about the future at all?" she kept her question innocent, open to any answer, but Castiel knew what she was really asking.

"Yes."

"And?"

"It isn't scary," his response was mechanic after his years of practice. She never asked him to explain, for she was all familiar with his answer, like a script they'd both perfected over the years.

The timer sounded, and Castiel left.

* * *

Eighth grade was nearing its end. Castiel had grown tall and lean, towering over the rest of the students in his class.

"Let's talk about the past today," Tessa's voice had grown weary during their conversations, abandoning her false friendliness for a more honest tone of neutrality. Castiel stiffened in his chair, eyes widening in surprise by the sudden change in topic.

"Why?"

"Accepting your past is an important part of the grieving process," she crossed her legs, staring into Castiel's eyes.

"Who am I grieving for?" Tessa didn't respond, instead pretending not to hear the question.

"Do you know what years you've been born in?" her voice was like a robot, her pen at the ready.

Castiel considered. He didn't know the dates exactly, for his births or deaths, but he had a vague idea of a few of them.

"I've been born in the future once, I think, as a Libra. I don't remember much," he didn't wait for Tessa to respond, instead moving on to his lives from the past. "I've never been alive in these years before, at least, I don't think I have. I've been born in the fourteen-hundreds, I think, but I can't be sure," he shrugged, ending his thought. He hadn't spoken that much in a session before, but he preferred the past over the future.

"Have you ever had children?"

"No."

"Have you ever been married?"

"No," Castiel's voice snapped this time, and Tessa scribbled a quick not onto her clipboard.

"Why?"

"I just haven't," he kept his answers short as he began to understand where the conversation was going.

"Not even in the future?" her words were stressed oddly, causing Castiel blush.

"No."

Tessa sighed.

"Are you looking for anyone in this life?"

Castiel didn't answer. Again, there was that grating sound of pen on paper, ringing in his ears like an accusation.

"Is there anyone you currently know who may benefit from these sessions?" her voice was softer now, almost pitying. It made Castiel sick.

"I don't have any more Pisces friends," his tone was strained as he silently begged her not to press the subject. He knew what she was suggesting, and he hated it.

"Someone else? Perhaps of a different zodiac sign?"

Castiel remained quiet, waiting for the alarm to sound.

It didn't.

He glanced at the clock, realizing there were another fifteen minutes left before he would be released. He bit his lip, trying to think of a response. Something that would confuse her enough to alter the subject.

"Have you ever fallen in love with anyone?"

Again, Castiel was quiet.

"Do you want to?" her voice wasn't flat anymore, instead taking on an air of concern. Castiel knew he should answer no and end her false worries, so why couldn't he? Why couldn't he lie about something as simple as this?

"Yes," he looked down at his feet, nearly choking over his words.

"I see."

The sound of pen on paper. The sound of his every thought being copied and analyzed and filed away for people to examine and interpret.

"Does never falling in love scare you?"

"No," Castiel tried to convince himself it wasn't a lie.

"Why do you think that is?" she seemed genuinely interested in his response.

"It just isn't scary."

He didn't tell her it terrified him, or that for the first time in his life, Castiel was afraid of dying.


	2. Chapter 2

There's a certain kind of sadness that fills your soul to the brim, but leaves you feeling hollow. It's like a churning in the pit of your stomach, a nostalgia for something you have never had. It's like being homesick for a home that never existed.

It twisted in Castiel's stomach, throwing him off balance; deafening him. He no longer felt real, as if he were stuck in a dream he would never wake up from. He focused on the gentle sound of the water reaching the shore in weak waves. The lake was large, but surrounded by trees in such a way that it was almost always covered in shade. The early summer breeze was cool against his sunburnt face. He knew his mother would throw a fit if she noticed how red he was.

Even though it wasn't too far from the dirt road, no one else knew about this beach, at least, that's what Castiel thought. If they did, he didn't exactly care, as long as they weren't there at the same time as he. Castiel sighed, letting his toes dip into the water. Solitude had become a part of his routine, and this was the only place he could find it.

He let his eyes flutter open to meet the blue of the sky. Clouds rolled lazily overhead. There was a time when he would have loved to search for pictures and stories within the overlapping shades of gray. He supposed he had simply seen too many clouds. He already knew what they would hold in their depths.

He pushed the thought aside. He didn't want to dwell on depressing things. Not now. Not here. He didn't want to poison the one last good place on Earth. Not when there were so few places left not infected by the cyanide of mortality.

* * *

Summer brings many things. Sun, vacations, time, and days spent hiding away from family and pretending to be asleep. It also brings thunderstorms.

Castiel stood, drenched in the rain and sweat. His feet were sore and his legs burned with effort. His lungs screamed and fire pumped through his veins. He forced a smile, praying it would become real.

It didn't.

He skidded to a stop, nearly falling over from the vertigo. Mud caked his shoes, and some of it had even made it inside onto his socks. His mother wouldn't be home for another few hours. For now, she was blissfully unaware that Castiel had even left the house, let alone that he had run all the way across town.

Castiel could almost laugh, but any laughter was choked out by sobs. He fell to his knees and threw his arms against the ground to keep him from falling face-first into the mud. Even here, so far away from home, he still felt hollow and empty, like a black hole. That was what he was becoming. He took any and all light within reach and crushed it beneath his apathy.

A crash of thunder sounded above him. He sighed, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye. He sobbed, shivers running up and down his spine. He hadn't thought of this; being stranded so far from home in a storm.

Oh well.

He didn't even look up when he turned to leave. He didn't think about where he was going or what he was doing. He just kept going forward. Did he run? Was he walking? He couldn't tell. He had lost himself in his void, falling through the black emptiness of his own mind.

 _Stop being so melodramatic._

He didn't want to go home. That was the one and only thought ringing clearly in his head. If he went home, he wouldn't hear the thunder as clearly, and the rain wouldn't be able to block out his fears with its ever present white noise.

Instead, he turned towards the lake. His lake. His own safe haven, where the world could never fall apart.

As he approached his beach, he caught a glimpse of a figure walking back towards the road out of the corner of his eye.

 _So_ , he thought, running a shaky hand through his dripping hair, _I am sharing this with someone_.

* * *

 **Sorry for taking such a long break; I've been swamped with homework, and I've been working on my other, original, writing project. I really appreciate all the reviews! Sorry for how short this one is, or if it seems rough or rushed. I haven't had much time to write or edit. Also, Dean will be introduced relatively soon. I just thought a description of the importance of this spot was important. Again, thank you all so much for the follows, likes, and reviews!**


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